


Direthal and Her Companions

by Liars



Series: Direthal Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Conversations, Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liars/pseuds/Liars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversations with Direthal Lavellan and her many companions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smiles and Varric (Unedited)

Dire - Varric (Unedited)

"and glorious little Hawke just stared at the buck naked Templar recruits, and asked if there was room for one more," the story teller broke out in a fit of laughter.

 

Direthal nodded vigorously, a grin covering her face as she listened. She didn't quite get why it was so funny, but listening to Varric chatter always made her happy. 

Her appearance was quite different than what it usually was. Moments like these made her look alive with emotion instead of the usual cold indifference. 

Varric had caught the stark difference in appearance. For whatever reasons, she could not express herself fully in the company of others. Even if it were their companions in a group, she would be much quieter and detached. Though the dwarven man was unsure whether it was a calculated move or something unconcious. 

 

"You know, Smiles, you remind me of Daisy and Hawke," he stated, searching in his own way. As her brown knitted in confusion on how she was like a rambunctious human woman or a ex-Dalish blood mage, he explained, "You seem like you have lost something important."

 

With those words, he knew he hit the mark because her smile was lost. Her face held the same icy emotionless state, but her eyes seemed to age way beyond her young years with a exhausting sadness that he knew crippled many others. It wasn't as though she were about to burst into a fit of tears. No, it looked like the type of depression that made a person just simply quit living.

"We all lose things, lethalin."

He found himself in one of those rare times where he simply speechless, and didn't even say a word as she numbly smiled. Standing up from her spot, she squeezd his shoulder as she passed him, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt for reminding her of whatever she hid from.

 

After a while of silent reflection, he swore he would never intentionally incite such sadness again.


	2. Dire - Cassandra (Unedited)

Dire - Cassandra (Unedited)

A Nevarren accent caught Direthal's attention, "Inquisitor, may I have a word?"

While the young elven woman always seemed to be busy, she always made time for her companions, even at the cost of her own leisure. She nodded, motioning her hands to the practice quarters near the wall.

"As you and Varric talked, I realized I know nothing about you," the Seeker casually mentioned, a hint of curiosity hidden in her tone. 

The rogue's poker face barely managed to stay completely neutral, "Sister Nightingale knows all."

"I'd prefer to hear it from the person herself."

"Ask, I shall try to answer," her voice was soft and patient as it could be, almost as if she were teaching an ignorant child to which the said child paid no heed. "I do not know if I will have the answers you want."

"Well- I- Where are you from," Cassandra inquired, clearly suprised the stoic Inquisitor was humoring her unusual request.

"We travel. We do not hail from anywhere," was the immediate response, but after a moment, Direthal continued. "I know many places in Fereldan, Orlais, and the Free Marches. Though I do not know all their names." 

The next question was shot like lightning from a Keeper's staff, "Is common not your first language?"

Her brow knitted together, contemplating how to explain it, "I- It- It is. My clan spoke in what you shem would call jargon. A mix of elven and common. I do not speak common as well as others, but I do understand for the most part. We do not know the fancy words that you use."

"I see. Josephine may need to know this in case you come into contact with certain nobles," Cassandra quipped, looking off into the distance. "Is that also the reason you so often avoid speaking?"

"I have learned that the actions of others speaks more than any words ever do."

"Why were you chosen-"

An hushed voice interupted, "Words whispered lightly into my ear, 'I love you.' They are pulling me away. NO! Gone. Gone. Gone!"

"Excuse me, Seeker, he needs my help." The young elven woman grasped onto the hand of the spirit, guiding him away from the confused Nevarren noble


	3. Dire - Cole (Unedited)

Dire - Cole (Unedited)

Some nights, she isn't even in her room. The unfamiliar surroundings destroys her composure, and she just has to leave when it happens. However this was not one of those nights. Huddled into a corner, she sat. Eyes hollow and empty, unfeeling and blank. He hated coming to her during those times, knowing he only awoke the pain, but it was better than her just letting go.

"Yearning, aching, hurting. You miss them, but you can't say it because then it would be real. But it is real, and they are gone. They aren't coming back," he whispered from the open balcony. Her detached stare flickered to him, but it wasn't really on him. However, it showed she was possibly listening.

"They wouldn't want you to feel this way. That's why they sent you here. It was so you could get better, so you could find a purpose. They, all of them, loved you."

That got to her, and she saw him. Really saw him, and not the ghosts that haunted her mind. Her arms fell to her sides, and he glided to her like a shadow as his large hat fell to the floor. 

Wrapping her arms around him, she let out a low moaning wail into his shoulder. Pure sorrow dripped from her eyes, and he awkwardly placed his own arms around her, rubbing her back because it just felt like it was the right thing to do. He felt immediate regret for his words, but knew deep down he would say it again if he had to.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated and echoed in a upset tone, only making her cry harder on his shoulder. "It piles up, eating away at you till you feel like there is no more. There will always be more though. You may bend, but you will never ever break. You are strong so no more lies. No more denying that it isn't real."

After her crying pitifully into his arms for what could have been hours, eventually she ran herself dry. She couldn't find the words, and she knew she should be embarassed, but couldn't find it in herself to be ashamed. Not when it was Cole comforting her.

"It hurts more this way,"she whimpered, choking and grasping for air. Face red and nose dripping with snot.

He pulled back, grabbing the sides of her face, and forcing her to stare at him, "But now it will get better."

"You don't know that," she spat, but she couldn't muster the strength to be angry. She was tired, so incredibly tired. Her eyes were drooping, and her arms slipped from his shoulders. His face blurred, and she couldn't keep awake any longer. 

As she finally fell asleep, he tasked himself with cleaning her up a bit, laying her flat on the ground, and wrapping her in a wool blanket she hid under the silken sheets of the bed. When he deemed her completely cared for, he grabbed his hat from the ground and found himself in another dark room.

Bright blue eyes met his in question, and he spoke in the softest of voices, "She needs someone like you. Someone who can understand and help."

The voice responded, quite confused, "Who?"


End file.
